


girl next door

by armageddonkey



Category: Archie Comics
Genre: F/F, Sad, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:25:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4181505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armageddonkey/pseuds/armageddonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>betty’s been sitting alone at pop’s way more often. it wouldn’t be so bad, she might be able to call it “me time” or something if it wasn’t for the high-pitched giggling three booths behind her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	girl next door

**Author's Note:**

> kind of an old thing. i originally wrote it in my journal where i ran out of space, so i fixed the ending up a bit. enjoy.

veronica’s scarlet pout splits into a smile, wide and white and perfect as she takes off down the hall. heels clicking on linoleum, black hair swishing past betty, who just watches her go by. in the gust, betty catches a note of perfume, something light and flowery and sweet that fades too fast. she watches ronnie’s red dress vanish into the crowd.

the bell rings and betty doesn’t stick around. she knows what she’ll see once everyone disperses, leaving just her and loose papers and gum wrappers and veronica and archie. laughing, tangled in each other, spinning around and around as many times as they like, cause their love is worth being late to class. words just excited nothings, nothing for betty’s ears, anyway, but veronica’s lips move slowly, drawling out “archiekins” that sticks in betty’s head for no good reason. so she heads off to first period, blonde ponytail bobbing in that way everyone expects from her. sweet, dependable betty, all sprinkles on cupcakes and reassurances and plump-cheeked smiles for everyone before herself.

it’s been odd, these past couple weeks. betty baked cookies and chatted with jughead and aced that history test she needed for a straight A. there were things missing between that, was all. missing phone calls and notes in lockers and shopping sprees. betty’s been sitting alone at pop’s way more often, sipping a strawberry fizz more out of habit than anything. it wouldn’t be so bad, she might be able to call it “me time” or something if it wasn’t for the high-pitched giggling three booths behind her. two straws nestled in a vanilla shake or cola float, melted and half-finished cause veronica’s too busy throwing her arms around archie’s neck. she nods around in his letter jacket, thick dark lashes fluttering over rouged cheeks.

sometimes, jug joins betty at the counter. “i can’t stand ‘em,” he sniffs, long nose turned up. “the least arch could do is date you instead. i dunno what he sees in that nag.” betty just picks the maraschino cherry out of the bottom of her glass, chewing the shiny red fruit before tying the stem into a knot with her tongue.

as far as best friends go, ronnie’s better than most people would think. she’s just cashmere and hartman hips and sass talk to them. only betty has ever seen her cry, held her through sleepovers that were supposed to help her get over what’s-his-name. she misses it. not ronnie being sad. even though if she were sad, she might come back around.

no, betty doesn’t really want ronnie sad, but when she rumbles by in archie’s old jalopy and only sometimes calls out “hi, betty!” it seems that way and betty’s stomach drops. it’s the guilt that kills her, makes her rip out pages of her diary and chase that carrot top like she has a chance. like she’s anything next to veronica, like she could ever be the one at the end of the hall or the second straw.

some fridays ago, veronica showed up at the cooper house all dolled up and in a huff. archie canceled their date, she explained, kicking her heels off at betty’s door. they talked over a bad rom-com, mostly ronnie divulging her new scheme to get archie to take her to “anything goes.” she fell asleep on one side of the bed. betty blinked at black hair across pink floral sheets, not daring to touch, just breathing in that familiar perfume.

when she woke up, the scent still lingered, a red half-imprint of lips on the pillowcase. she hugged the pillow to her chest, trying to find the warmth that had already faded.


End file.
